


You and I Will Always Be the Same

by darrinya



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Established Relationship, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Lucius Malfoy's A+ Parenting, M/M, Never Have I Ever, Past Child Abuse, ambiguous ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:48:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27414499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darrinya/pseuds/darrinya
Summary: “Never have I ever had to sleep in the cupboard.”Harry groans and takes a shot. Without thinking, Draco does, too. They all stare, and Draco feels a flush begin to flare up on his cheeks.“What the hell,” Harry says flatly.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 12
Kudos: 297





	You and I Will Always Be the Same

**Author's Note:**

> This author does not support JKR and her disgustingly prejudiced views. I'd like to encourage all of you to make every Harry Potter character LGBTQA+ as a mini rebellion.

Okay, so maybe Draco should have known better than to go out with Harry and the rest of the Golden Trio. They’re idiots (not Granger, but Draco swears that her IQ takes a dip whenever she’s around Weasley and Harry at the same time). They convince _Draco_ to be an idiot.

“Never have I ever gone to Paris and stayed at a five star hotel with room service delivered every night,” Granger says.

Draco downs his shot and glowers at Granger, while Harry and Weasley dissolve into laughter, neither of them touching a drop.

“That was a cheap shot,” Draco says in a hard voice. “Never have I ever lived in a house without peacocks.”

Okay, so that wasn’t the best revenge tactic, since only Weasley and Granger had to take a shot. But that was the price Draco had to pay for living with Harry bloody Potter.

The night goes on, and the “never have I ever” choices get worse and worse. Then, partly because Weasley is too drunk to use common sense and partly because he and Harry have the kind of friendship where they joke about it all the time, Weasley says, “Never have I ever had to sleep in the cupboard.”

Harry groans and takes a shot. Without thinking, Draco does, too. They all stare, and Draco feels a flush begin to flare up on his cheeks.

“What the hell,” Harry says flatly.

Draco debates the pros and cons of changing his name and moving to Russia to live with Viktor Krum.

.

Draco was seven when it first happened. He remembers whining to his father for several minutes straight about some idiotic toy that he wanted. Before he knew what was happening, his father grabbed him by the arm and marched him back to his room.

Draco thought that his father was going to ground him. Or yell at him. Or something, anything, other than yanking the door to the cupboard open and staring Draco down.

“Get in,” his father said softly.

“But--” Draco couldn’t think of a proper rebuttal. “But it’s dark in there.”

“Draco,” his father said, “Malfoy heirs do _not_ whine. Get in or I promise you that it will be worse.”

Draco went into the cupboard.

It’s fuzzy now that Draco is twenty-three, but Draco can still hear the click of the lock as his father charmed the door shut. He can still feel the oppressive darkness pressing in on him.

At the time, Draco didn’t understand what was happening or _why_ it was happening. He can remember choking back sobs and then resorting to pleading, promising to be good, to stop whining, as long as his father would just _let him out._

His father came back in the morning, his mouth hard and thin.

Apparently, Malfoy heirs weren’t supposed to cry, either.

.

“Dude,” Weasley says, “that’s fucked up.”

Draco blinks in surprise. 

“Did I say that ou’ loud?” he asked blurrily.

Weasley opens his mouth, but Harry is already pulling Draco to his feet, his arm looped around Draco’s waist.

“Let’s get you home,” Harry says.

“‘M not drunk,” Draco protests.

Harry laughs and presses a kiss at the corner of Draco’s mouth.

“Neither ‘m I, then,” he says. “We’ll use the Floo.”

.

“You gonna make me talk ‘bout it?” Draco asks, his head in Harry’s lap.

Okay, maybe he is a little drunk. There’s no way he would ask that sober.

“I’m not gon’ make you do anything,” Harry says. “Not right. Too drunk.”

Draco can’t tell if Harry is saying that Draco or Harry is too drunk, but for some reason, he can’t stop giggling after Harry says it.

A few beats pass, and Draco is breathless and achy from laughter.

“Is Weasley right?” he asks.

“Hmmm?” Harry asks absently, his hands carding through Draco’s hair.

“‘M I fucked up?” Draco asks.

“Baby,” Harry says with dismay. “Baby, _no.”_

Harry starts babbling about the random feel-good twattle that his therapist feeds him every Tuesday, but Draco is already tuning him out.

“You’re wrong, y’know,” Draco slurs. “Once you figure out how many ish . . . iss . . . isht . . . how messed up I am, you’re gonna be like that star in the song. Twinkle twinkle, bye bye, sky.”

“That’s not . . . Draco—“

But Draco is already drifting away.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Leave a comment or come chat with me on tumblr! darrinya.tumblr.com


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